


Give Me A Day Like This

by leiascully



Category: Captain America (2011), Doctor Who (2005), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: 1940s, Dancing, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Happy Ending, Not Really A Happy Ending, Safer Sex, Second Chances, Wishes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:49:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor, never quite done saving humanity, granted Steve Rogers one wish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: post-Avengers, post-Captain America, near the end of DW Series 6  
> A/N: I had to. The songs are "Long Ago & Far Away" by Bing Crosby and "Just The Way You Look Tonight" (preferably by Frank Sinatra).  
> Disclaimer: _The Avengers_ and all related characters are property of Marvel Studios and Joss Whedon. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

Steve wasn't too worried when the weird blue box showed up in the gym, whooshing like a dying accordion. For all he knew, it was another one of Tony's inventions, or one of Dr. Richard's (he didn't really like Dr. Richards for some reason), or maybe even Dr. Strange's strange creations, but if it was in the Tower, it wasn't going to cause much of a problem. He hoped. Now that he thought about it, that wasn't actually true. Problems in the Tower were usually Tony's fault. Steve steadied the punching bag and braced himself for whatever today's catastrophe was going to be. 

Before he could think too much about it, the door of the blue box opened. A tall, lanky man in a tweed jacket stepped out. The man was wearing a Stetson, which he skimmed off his head and tossed back into the box. He pulled a funny little gadget out of his inside coat pocket and scanned Steve with it, green light making Steve blink and flinch a little. The man examined the gadget, snapping it shut and putting it away with an air of satisfaction.

"Steven Rogers, is it?" the man said. "Otherwise known as Captain America? Quite an evocative name for a superhero, I must say. A pity Britain could never come up with something with quite the same ring."

Steve blinked. "I haven't had all my history lessons, but I feel like Britain's had more than its share of superheroes with decent names. You don't think Union Jack sounds good enough?"

"No, no," the man said. "Not quite the same cachet, I'm afraid. Granted, I'm in and out, must have missed a few here and there. Daring deeds, not a lot of downtime."

"Captain Britain doesn't do it for you?" Steve said warily. "Spitfire? Wind-Shear? Psylocke?"

"Better," the man said thoughtfully. "Better. But that isn't really what I'm here to discuss. You _are_ Captain America, aren't you?"

"That's what they call me," Steve said, stripping off his gloves. "And you are?"

"I'm the Doctor," the man said, as if he expected it to mean something. Steve just stared at him. The Doctor rubbed his hands together. "Excellent, I see you haven't heard of me."

Steve frowned. "And that's a good thing?"

"It just might be," said the Doctor cheerfully. "Steven Rogers, I'm here to grant you a wish."

Steve crossed his arms and gave the Doctor a skeptical stare. "Pull the other one, pal. If Tony sent you down here, no offense, I really appreciate the gesture and all, but he's barking up the wrong tree."

"Tony?" the Doctor said. "Do I know a Tony? Surely I must have met one at least once, but in any case, no Tony had a thing to do with today. Just my inspiration, I'm afraid, if you can call it that. My farewell tour, as it were." He stepped closer, ducking his head as he approached Steve. "Captain. You're a good man, caught out of your own time. A paragon from another age. A man who lost everything and everyone he'd known but managed to adapt. They say you're the heart of the Avengers, that you're the conscience."

"You sound like a journalist," Steve said, shifting uncomfortably. "I overslept a little."

The Doctor nodded. "I understand more than you can know." He tipped his head, a little smile on his face. "I thought you might appreciate a chance to address some unfinished business. God knows we all need a second chance once in a while."

"That's impossible," Steve said, shaking his head and turning away. "Sorry, Doctor."

"It's not impossible," said the Doctor softly, his voice full of certainty. Steve looked up despite himself. It was like Tony talking science or Fury with his politics: even when Steve didn't understand what was going on, sometimes they'd say something that hit straight to his bones with the power of it. The Doctor was like that. His voice made a promise and Steve believed. His heart clenched, jolted like he'd held his gun wrong and taken the kick right in the center of his chest. Not for the first time, he thought about his vibranium shield, how it had seen him through thick and thin but never protected the things he held most dear or his vulnerable heart. He was still Steve Rogers from Brooklyn, an easy mark for impassioned madmen.

"So, Captain," the Doctor said, still quiet, still certain, his hands in his pockets. "Do I have your attention?"

""What kind of unfinished business?" Steve asked. 

"Ah!" the Doctor said, rubbing his hands together again. "A few ground rules - nothing you wished you'd done differently in the moment. Can't cross your own timestream, you see. Too risky. I've done it a few times, but I nearly always regret it, and River isn't here to straighten things out, so. We'll just avoid that, shall we?"

"Uh, sure," Steve said. In his mind, he saw Bucky falling and falling down the endless slope of the valley, tumbling through the air. He felt the cold sting his own outflung arm and the ache of his muscles straining towards his best friend. He winced and heard Peggy's voice in his ear, her voice staticky over the radio but her tears still audible as she promised to meet him. 

"Missed opportunities, that's the thing," the Doctor said. "Goodbyes you never said, appointments you missed the first time, a chance to set things straight from a distance." He studied Steve. "Anything in mind? Bear in mind you can't kill Hitler: that's been tried, and sorry to say, some things you just have to let play out on their own."

"Yeah, actually," Steve said. "Thing is, I'm not really sure how we're going to make it back to 1944. It's not like we can catch the subway."

"Leave it to me!" the Doctor said, beaming. "This beauty" - he stroked the corner of the strange blue box - "is my TARDIS. She'll take you anywhere you want to go. Time, space, anywhere. Did I not mention that I have a time machine? Silly Doctor. Forget my own head next." He patted his head gingerly, as if afraid he had actually forgotten it. Satisfied, he gestured toward the door of the TARDIS. "Well?"

"I need to change first," Steve said. 

"Plenty of clothes on the TARDIS," the Doctor said. "Tell her what you need, she'll fix you all up. She's good at that. Always knows how to dress someone."

"It's just," Steve said, his face hot. "I've got a date."

"Even better!" the Doctor said. "Love a bit of romance, makes the universe go round. Pop into the wardrobe, she'll sort you out in nothing flat. In we go."

Steve stepped into the TARDIS, which was a hell of a lot bigger on the inside than he'd thought it would be. He was a little relieved that it wasn't going to be a close fit - the Doctor was pretty energetic. Steve gazed at the gleaming controls. It looked exactly like a spaceship should look: dials and levers everywhere, a couple of old-fashioned-looking screens. It looked like a spaceship Howard Stark might have designed, and it felt oddly homey. 

"Off you pop," the Doctor said, madly twiddling at the controls. Steve thought he saw a telephone and a hot water faucet buried in the mass of buttons and wheels, but he wasn't quite sure. "Down the corridor, two doors down on the left. Nothing but clothes as far as the eye can see. Help yourself, though I've got to say, I can't see you in tweed."

"Don't worry," Steve said. "Your tweed is safe." He wandered down the corridor, brushing his fingers against the coppery wall. The metal was slightly cool under his fingertips, smooth and satiny. The doors had real knobs, which was comforting somehow. He opened the door the Doctor had told him about and a sea of clothing confronted him. He stepped into the room and flipped through a rack of suits that looked like his size. He touched the fabrics, all nicer than anything he'd ever owned before he was Cap, and caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror. His hair stood on end and his face was flushed. He felt dirty and sweaty in his gym clothes. In the corner was a shower, a pile of towels neatly folded next to it. He washed off briefly, found socks and underwear still in their packages, and picked a suit. 

He wasn't surprised when it fit perfectly. There were gold cufflinks in the shape of stars; he fixed them in the cuffs of his shirt and smoothed down his hair. He looked in the mirror and swallowed hard. He'd done the best he could. All he could do now was hope that Peggy had kept their date. 

Steve made his way back to the control room. The Doctor applauded when he saw Steve. 

"Absolutely splendid," the Doctor pronounced. "I'm sure you'll knock her off her feet. Presuming, without judgment of any sort and given your previous opposition to my granting certain sorts of wishes, that it's a her you're going to all this trouble to keep a date with."

"It is," Steve mumbled.

"Give us a mo'," the Doctor said, throwing a switch. He bounded across the control room and out the door, popping back in after a few seconds with a huge bouquet of red roses, which he thrust into Steve's hands. "Grazi!" he called out the door, shutting it again as he turned back to Steve. "Say it with flowers, that's what I always say. Although several of the ladies I know would probably prefer some sort of firearm to a bunch of flowers, but if you've missed the date, best not to provide her with a means to wound you." He stopped talking and looked intently at Steve, who stared down into the flowers.

"You can't stay forever," the Doctor said. He was serious again. "You can't change the course of history. You're supposed to be under the ice by now, I imagine. I can give you a few hours, one night at the most, but I can't give you the way things ought to have been. We can't know how things ought to have been. You might have died the next day or a week from then or lived to a ripe old age. But we can do a very little meddling in history. You should think about what you're going to tell her."

"I don't think she'll buy it if I tell her I'm a ghost or a dream," Steve mumbled. "She's a smart lady." 

"I know the type," the Doctor said, humor at the edge of his voice. "Tell her what you like. Oddly enough, nobody seems to believe people who go around saying that they found a police box that could travel through time."

"There's no way I could bring her back?" Steve said.

The Doctor put his hand on Steve's shoulder. "I wish I could say yes," he said. "But history has a way of fixing the things we try to change. Everything's timey-wimey, tangled together, and you never know what or who will be the linchpin you just can't pull without the whole thing falling apart. I imagine your clever lady is something of an immovable point, crucial to her own time."

"That sounds like her," Steve said, his heart thudding painfully. 

"You have my congratulations and my sympathies," the Doctor said. There was a wry smile on his face. "Perhaps one of these days we ought to form a support group."

The box whooshed and they were there, or at least, near enough. The Doctor had landed in an alleyway, which was familiar territory. Steve stepped around a few piles of garbage, checking the sidewalk before he slipped into the crowd. The staff gave him a funny look, but let him in. Steve was grateful for that. It would have caused trouble to claim to be himself, but to get to Peggy, he would have broken in if he'd had to.

She was there, sitting at the bar of the Stork Club. In a room full of dazzling women and dapper men, Peggy was all he saw. Her red dress glowed, and it was all he could do not to run across the room, toppling tables as he went. She was gazing into her glass of whiskey, her hair curled and her makeup perfectly in place, but defeat and dignified, angry unhappiness in the lines of her body.

"Peggy," Steve said, holding out the roses in front of him like a shield. She lifted her head at the sound of his voice, turning stiff and slow as if she faced a firing squad. Her eyes widened as she saw him, filling with tears that did not overflow. Fierce joy flooded her face; her cheeks flushed and her hands clenched in her lap. 

"You came," she said, and his heart melted at the warm relief in her voice.

"Sorry I'm late," he told her. "I...it's a long story. Possibly classified. They found me under the ice a long time from now and, well, the rest of it doesn't make much sense."

"I don't give a damn," she said. "You're _here_." She leaned forward, stepping delicately off her stool, and flung herself into his arms. The roses were crushed between their bodies as she kissed him. He kissed her back, holding her tight, her mouth tasting of alcohol and desperate misery and equally desperate joy. He stroked her hair, running his thumb over her cheekbone and the curve of her ear. She kissed him fiercely, hungrily, like she was drinking him in, and he tightened his arms around her until the thorns of the roses bit through his shirt into his skin. He stepped back from her just enough to remove the flowers and toss them on the counter. The bartender rolled his eyes, but Steve didn't even bother to apologize. He was staring into Peggy's eyes, lacing his fingers through hers, marveling at the trembling solid reality of her body. The thought of her had kept him warm so many nights; he thought he might catch fire now, his heart burning in his chest with a clear, bright flame.

"Oh, God," she said, gazing up at him. "You came."

"You said you'd teach me how to dance," he reminded her. "I couldn't miss that."

"We'll make the band play something slow," she said, her voice catching in a sob. 

"Peggy," he said, his hand cupping her face. "I wish I could promise you more than this. But all I get is tonight. But I had to come back, when I had the chance."

"I understand," she said. Courage firmed her shoulders; she stood straight and square, her head held high. "Then we're going to make the absolute most of tonight, Captain Rogers. One we'll never forget."

"I could never forget you," he promised.

"Nor I you," she said with feeling, and now he was the one blinking back tears. She squeezed his hand. The band struck up, a slow sweet tune. "May I have this dance, Captain Rogers?"

"I'd be honored, Miss Carter," Steve said, offering her his arm.

"Dreary days are over," the singer crooned, "life's a four leaf clover." Steve stepped onto the dance floor, taking Peggy in his arms. She nudged his foot with her toe, pivoting her hips as he stepped into the space she'd left. He followed her lead, hypnotized by her smile, swaying around the dance floor in the crowd. He only had eyes for her; they might have been the only ones in the room, dancing on an empty floor as the band played on.

"I dreamed a dream one day, and now that dream is here beside me," the singer sang, the words drifting out across the room.

"Lord, how I missed you," Peggy said, burying her face against Steve's shoulder. "Every moment of the last week, waking and sleeping. I've nearly ruined my eyes crying, and I hate to cry. It isn't the same without you."

"Trust me," he told her. "It isn't the same without you either. I think about you all the time." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

"Tell me a sweet lie, Steve," she murmured. "Tell me we have a happily ever after. I've never wished for anything so ridiculous in all my life as that, but I can't think of anything I want more at this moment."

He thought his heart would break now; it wasn't possible for him to feel so sad and so happy at once. Even his augmented body couldn't contain so much emotion. He held Peggy closer, tucking her against him. 

"I'm so, so sorry," he whispered.

"Never be sorry," she said fiercely. "Never be sorry for any minute of this. We're soldiers, you and I. We knew the odds. Never, ever be sorry, no matter the price we pay for it. I'll keep carrying on for the rest of my life on the memory of this dance and your face floating in an absolute sea of roses. Traditionally it's one dozen, not three, if you ever get the chance again. But I rather suspect you're a once in a lifetime gift, Captain."

He pressed his cheek to her hair. "Every moment with you has been a miracle. I just want you to know."

"Just one look," murmured the singer, "and then I knew that all I longed for long ago was you."

"One night," she said. "One enchanted night, once upon a time, and a kiss to build a dream on."

"We'll make it last forever," Steve promised. 

The music changed, slowed even more, and Steve held Peggy close. They swayed together, moving dreamy and sweet like they'd been dancing together all their lives. Peggy lifted her head and looked up at Steve and he drank in the details of her face. Her presence warmed him like wine, thawing things inside him that had been frozen since he went under the ice. He raised her hand to his lips and sang along softly to the familiar tune. 

"Some days, when I'm awf'ly low and the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you and the way you look tonight."


	2. With Your Smile So Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy learned the power of the word please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wasn't going to write any more of this story, and then I had a begging square for Kink Bingo, and then this happened. I offer no explanations or apologies.

Steve couldn't be sure how long they spent dancing, swaying together in the arms of the music. It was forever and no time at all. He was lost in Peggy's brown eyes, hypnotized by the red of her lips, drunk off the heady whiff of her perfume. She tucked her head against his shoulder and he rested his cheek against the satin of her hair. He would swear that their hearts were beating in time. 

All at one her body shook and he tipped her head gently back. Her eyes were wet and her chest heaved in another half-stifled sob. 

"I'm sorry," she said as he gently wiped away the damp on her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be," Steve told her. "Peggy...sweetheart, there's nothing to be sorry for." The word sounded odd on his lips, though he'd thought it a thousand times. God, the nights he'd dreamed of holding her this way, sweet nothings on his lips coming as easily as they'd always come for Bucky. His dreams couldn't hold a candle to the real thing. She smiled up at him through the gloss of her tears. 

"It's all right," she said. "I'll be all right. Could we leave?"

"We can do anything you want," Steve promised.

Peggy gathered up the roses she'd left by the bar and paid for her drink. Steve held the flowers as she hailed a taxi. The scent of them filled the car as they rode to her apartment. Peggy caught at his shirt as the taxi drove away and kissed him there on the sidewalk, her lips asking questions he was only too glad to answer. He kissed her for every moment they'd been apart. He kissed her for the ache of waking up in a world where he didn't belong, a world she couldn't share. They left a trail of roses up the stairs, careless of the mess. Steve dropped the last few on the floor inside her door. Peggy's apartment was spare, a little dreary, only a few little touches that made it hers. 

"I'm only here for a little while," she said, sounding slightly embarrassed. "It isn't much, but it's home, for now. I'm sure we'll get new orders soon, but we're at a loss without you." She looked down at the table. "Some of us more than others."

"Anywhere with you feels like home," Steve said, and cringed. It sounded so stupid when he said it that way, so much like a line that a con man would use to get what he wanted, but he meant it to the depths of his soul. Where Peggy was, that was where his heart was. She was the right time and the right place. Whatever else was wrong in the world, she was always right.

"Impossible man," she said, looking up at him. "You're a miracle, Steven Rogers."

"I'm nothing special," he said. 

"Yes, you are," she told him. She reached up to touch his face, her fingertips grazing his cheekbone. "You absolutely are."

He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. "You're the miracle, sweetheart."

She shivered delicately. "I like to hear you say that."

"Well, I like to say it," he said. She stepped closer, gazing into his eyes. It reminded him so much of every time in the field: that same sense of breathless tension, something crackling between them. He bent to press his lips to hers, completing the circuit of their bodies. Longing sizzled through him, her desire mingling with his. God, he might not know much about anything beyond, but he knew about longing. He cupped both hands around her face and she pressed herself against him. The silk of her dress slid easily against the wool of his suit; the heat of their bodies mingled until the air all around them was warm. He could feel his forehead creasing: every kiss was exquisitely perfect and exquisitely painful, all their firsts wrapped up in lasts. 

"Be with me," she whispered in his ear, and the tender desperation in her words made his breath catch. 

"I can't tell you how much I want that," he said, resting his forehead against hers. "But I don't know if we should." 

"Please," Peggy said, her voice nearly breaking, and a little thrill shot through him. 

Steve caught her hands, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. "Peggy, you don't have to do this."

"Please," she said again. "Steve, please." Every time she asked, it went through him like shrapnel, ripping at him. Shards of love were lodged in his heart, in his guts; his breath came fast and hard against the pain of wanting her so badly, loving her so much. At the same time, the asking made him want her more. He wanted to grant her every wish, fulfill her every request. 

"I'll beg if that's what it takes," she said lightly, but her lips were trembling. 

"I'm not supposed to change the future," he said helplessly. 

She laughed, a sad little sound. "Oh, Steve. I doubt anything that happens between the two of us could change much of anything. Two people in a small flat in a big city - the world doesn't care about us. The only future it will affect is mine."

It took an effort to hold himself back. He wanted to soothe her hurts with his lips. He wanted to shelter her with his body, with every bit of strength that had been given to him. She took a step back and knelt down deliberately in front of him, her eyes locked with his. 

"Peggy, no," he said. "You don't have to do this."

"If I'm not the one you want, that's all right," she said, though her lips still quivered. God, he loved her for every ounce of steel in her spine. She was the strongest person he'd ever known. She strode through life as if she were ten feet tall and nothing ever touched her, but he knew better. She felt every wound, hers and his, and nothing he could do would be enough to thank her or tell her that he knew her worth, that he treasured every moment of her company.

"That's not it," he told her fervently, dropping to the floor in front of her. "That's not it at all. God, I want you more than anything. I don't even have the right words to say so. Peggy. You're everything I could ever want. I don't want to mess that up."

"That isn't what would happen," she told him. "I could never regret anything that happened between us."

"I'm not strong enough," he said. "Not like you." 

"That's rubbish," she said. "Please don't take this chance away from me, Steve."

He looked away. 

"Please," she said again. "Be with me tonight. If we only have one night against every lonely night to follow, please."

He shivered with indecision. A new heat was kindling at the base of his belly, something about the way her face had looked tipped all the way back to see his and the straightness of her spine as she shifted on her knees. She still had every bit of her dignity somehow. Desire built in him, laced with shame at how much he liked hearing her ask. She had hardly ever asked anything of him as long as they'd known each other. But she looked at him steadily now, unashamed of her longing, unashamed to ask. He couldn't move, paralyzed by wanting her and by wanting to hear her ask. 

"Please," she said, very quietly this time. 

"Peggy..." he said. 

"Please," she said, nothing more than a whisper, and her eyes dropped from his face. That broke him; she had never not looked him in the eye, never not held him accountable to what was right. She wanted him and he wanted her with every fiber of his heart and soul. That was supposed to be easy - Bucky had always told him that there was nothing easier in the world - but nothing was ever easy for the two of them somehow. He had made a difficult night harder on both of them. He had complicated their few precious hours. He had made her ask more than once for the thing they both wanted for the pleasure of hearing her ask. 

He reached out and let his fingertips catch in her curls. She looked at him through her lashes, her eyes so full of hurt and yearning. 

One night. All they'd ever have was this one night. He'd had so many hopes for the two of them, if they both survived the war, and he'd lost every one of them. Now he had one night to live the lifetime he'd dreamed about, and he was holding out in some kind of misguided, half-noble effort to spare her the pain of losing that future all over again, as if they weren't already condemned to wishing for what might have been. Like she wasn't bearing the weight of it already. It wasn't his job to save her - she'd never been a damsel in distress. She'd been so proud and so strong and he was wasting what little time they had left.

"Ask me again," he said, and she glared at him a little. The fire in her eyes only made him want her more. His whole body yearned for her, strained toward her, ached at the thought of her touch. 

"Please," she said, her spine still straight and her shoulders firm. His body tingled from his shoulder to his knees. "Be with me tonight, Steve. We'll make up for lost time. At least then I'll have something left to dream of. At least then I won't feel like I wasted on every chance we had."

"Never wanted anything more in my life," he said. His hand slid around the back of her head and he leaned toward her.

She held herself just slightly away. "Not even the Army?"

"Not even that," he told her, and she smiled. 

"Then kiss me already," she said, and he did. She was better than fireworks on the Fourth of July. She was better than the sight of the Statue of Liberty gleaming in the sun. She was better than hot summer afternoons watching the Dodgers. She was everything that Steve had dreamed of and more. Her arms slid around his waist under his jacket and her hands wandered up and down his back. He shivered at the gentle pressure of her fingernails. 

"Take me to bed," she murmured in a husky, honey-rich voice he'd never heard before, and then added, "please." He made an involuntary noise and she winked at him. He wrenched himself away from her and stood up, offering her his hand. She got to her feet, stepping out of her heels, and he bent down and slipped an arm behind her knees and one behind her shoulder blades, lifting her easily. 

"Well, Captain Rogers," she said. "You certainly do know how to sweep a girl off her feet. I hope you're still good at taking orders."

"I'll do my best, "he promised. "Which way, ma'am?"

"Through the kitchen, please," she said. He carried her along the narrow hallway, only stumbling a little when she kissed him. The rest of the world disappeared when she kissed him, and there was nothing except the two of them and the things their lips could do. It was no wonder his feet lost their way. But the hallway was short, and then they were in her bedroom. It was just like he'd imagined, the bed made with military strictness and lace on the pillowcases and everything tidied away except a jumble of makeup pots on a dressing table. He set Peggy down gently. 

"Everything you expected?" she teased him.

"So much more," he said, leaning down to kiss her.

She undressed him down to his drawers with deft fingers and stood patiently as he wrestled with the zipper on her dress. Underneath that was her girdle: very French, very tempting, but too much fabric to be between them. He took just a moment to drink in the sight of her and she tolerated it, then turned around, offering the line of hooks that ran from the middle of her back to the tops of her thighs. He helped her out of the girdle and her stockings, kneeling in front of her to unsnap the silk from her garters. Then she was in his arms, her skin as silky as the fabric of her dress and so hot he thought they might scorch each other. It felt so damn _good_ to have her bare skin against his that he was half out of his mind with the pleasure of it. He kissed her until he was dizzy. She stroked his skin and her fingertips left trails of fire across his skin. He was harder than he'd ever been in his life, aching for the embrace of her body. He flattened his hand over the small of her back, pulling her toward him a little bit more roughly than he'd intended, but the noise she made as her body pressed against his was clearly happy.

"Please," she breathed, gazing up at him.

"Anything," he promised. Even the shape her lips made around the word was too much, and the word itself still had its effect on him. She clearly knew by now exactly how his muscles tightened at the sound of it.

"Touch me, please," she said. 

He picked her up again and laid her softly on the bed, stretching out beside her. He kissed her and cupped her breasts tentatively in his hands. She laid her fingers over his in quiet approval, guiding him a little, urging him to rub his thumbs across her nipples. He wanted to lay like that forever, listening to the soft sounds of enjoyment she made, the sounds he caused her to make, but he didn't know how long the night would last. Eventually Peggy pushed her hips against his and his fingers slipped down her body and into the slick warmth between her thighs. He groaned and she moaned. She touched his wrist, her fingertips stroking the back of his hand as he explored her, finding the places that made her moan more. She kissed him fiercely and he kissed her back with the same hunger. An incredible expression came over her face as he touched her, as if her pleasure had a keen edge. He kept caressing her, kept kissing her, kept pressing against her, and after a few moments she cried out and trembled in his arms. He kissed her face all over, cradling her body against his. Her chest and face were flushed and her eyes were very bright when she finally looked up at him again.

"Please," she said, "more." 

"God, yes," he said. 

She rolled away from him and sashayed over to her dressing table, pulling a little paper packet out of one of the drawers. She tossed it to him and he caught it, looking at her. 

"As lovely as it would be to having a living reminder of you, I think it might break the rule about not changing the future," she said. "It also wouldn't be very practical at the moment. They barely allow me to do my job as it is."

Steve looked down and blushed. "Oh. Good."

She sat on the edge of the bed, gloriously naked. "I bought them thinking of you, you know. Only a few weeks ago. It's a pity we won't get to use more of them."

"Yeah," Steve said. 

"Lay back," she said, taking the rubber from him. He obeyed and she eased his drawers down his legs, dropping a kiss on his hip. She ripped open the packet and rolled the rubber carefully on. It felt strange and new. Steve was scared out of his wits and excited all at once. Peggy rubbed his thigh. 

"All right?"

"Yeah," he said. "It's just that I've been waiting a long time for the right partner. I don't want to mess this up."

"I'm sure you'll be amazing," she said, and the way her smile lit up her face, he had to believe it. She moved over on the bed, leaning over to kiss him and lifting her knee over his body at the same time, so that she was straddling his stomach. He kissed her desperately, wanting the moment never to end and wanting the next step to happen at the same time. Slowly she eased herself back, her fingers finding him and guiding him inside. Steve could hardly catch his breath; it felt better than anything he'd ever imagined, and from the incandescent look on Peggy's face, she felt it too. 

"How are you feeling?" she breathed.

"Perfect," he said. He reached up to touch her face and she kissed him. She leaned to the side until he couldn't help rolling with her, and then they were face to face, gazing at each other. 

"Worth the wait?" she asked.

"There was never any doubt," he said. 

"You can move," she said with amusement in her voice. "You won't break me. In fact, please move. As lovely as this is, I'm certain we can do better."

Slowly, carefully, he moved against her. Her lips parted and she tightened her arms around him. Encouraged, he rocked his hips again. She winced a little and he stopped, terrified of hurting her. She stroked his face. 

"It's all right," she said. "Just adjusting. Keep going."

He began again, even more carefully than before, attentive to every change in her expression. She leaned in and kissed him, her tongue brushing his, and every worry melted away. God, she'd been worth waiting for. He moved in her and it was perfect, it was magic, it was a happily ever after he could believe in. 

"Touch me, please," she said, her back arching. 

"Now?" he asked.

"Yes, now," she said, amused. She guided his hand between her legs. His fingers crooked to find the place that made her moan and she buried her face in his neck. 

"God, I love you," she murmured. 

"I love you too," he said, breathing hard.

"I mean it," she said, leaning back to look at him. "Every word of it, Steve Rogers, and don't you forget it. Every minute has been worth it." 

"I wish it could be different," he said.

"Don't," she said. "Knowing you're alive makes it all right. Whatever else happens, that will carry me through."

"Oh, sweetheart," he said, moved beyond words. The beauty of her dazzled him; the sadness of her ached in his own bones. He moved slowly inside her, stroking her, watching her eyes widen and the lines of her face soften.

"Nevermind," she said. "There's tonight." 

"There's tonight," he agreed. "Peggy. Sweetheart. There's no one like you anywhere."

"Likewise, Captain," she said with a sweet smile. "Now kiss me for the morning."

He kissed her; he touched her; he showed his love as best he could with every caress and movement. She panted and gasped in his arms, her body hot against his, and the moment came again when she cried out and shook, her body contracting around him. She clung to him, making tiny little murmurs of noises.

"Let go," she told him, breathless. "Let go."

She was with him in that moment as she would be with him forever, his champion and his protector. Her hands cupped around his face to steady him, shielding him from the immensity of the pleasure they had created. Ecstasy overtook him, overwhelmed him; he kissed her as if passion alone could save them from the dawn to come. She held him so tightly he was sure her arms were aching.

"I love you," he told her, over and over like a mantra. He mapped her body with his hands, printing the memory of her form on his flesh. They would both need the memories as a guard against the cold. 

"Please stay," she said so quietly he barely heard, and his heart broke. When he kissed her again, both their lips tasted like salt.


End file.
